DOGS: The Drabbles
by cryptonomicon
Summary: A reposting of my Badou/Haine drabbles for a more convenient system of organization. Fluff, crude humor, and overall domestic moments inside.
1. Set 1

_Sneeze_

Badou always thought it was hilariously funny when Haine sneezed. Not only due to the fact that he rarely did, but that when the instance did occur, the menacing albino sounded like a torn up squeaky toy rather than the rabid dog he was known to be.

_Shadows_

It scared him sometimes, seeing his reflection in the mirror. Pale and haunted, he would breeze out of the view of the reflective surface as quickly as possible, always fearing the shadow that stood behind him in the silence of those tiled rooms.

_Bath Time_

Despite the heat, Badou always loved the summer. The dog days always made him feel calmer, the heat blurring him into a haze like the comforting blanket of smoke that always followed him around.

It was also an excuse to bring out his stolen fire hose and douse Haine with it, shouting madly from his third story window that it was "BATH TIME FOR DOGGIE *****ES!" as the hose pumped water from a hole in his wall that lead to some other poor sap's water main.

_Years_

He often woke with nightmares these days, haunted by a childhood experience in which he had strayed into a dark alley, only to meet a pair of red eyes and shining white teeth. He had screamed, as any young child would have back then. But by the time he opened his eyes again, the smile and the eyes were gone. But as Badou sat on his bed, the eyes still lingered, a face now burned into the memory alongside them that was all too familiar to his waking eye.

He wondered then how old Haine really was.

_Silence__  
_  
Badou groaned as they waited in Granny's lobby, staring up at the ceiling and wishing the old fox would put a goddamn clock in her goddamn waiting room. Haine was statuesque beside him, as always.

"God," he drawled out angrily, unable to stand the silence any longer. "What time is it anyway? That old hag said she'd see us at four thirty!"

"Sit down asshole, it's only quarter after four," Haine said, his voice lacking its usual acumen despite the insult flung with the first word.

"How the hell can you tell?" the redhead replied angrily, hoping to God he hadn't missed the fact that his partner was wearing a watch. Again.

Haine sighed, opening his previously closed eyes lazily. "We got here at four. I've been listening to that hourglass over on the table in the corner. As close as I can figure, it's about quarter after," he replied, looking like he would have been sorely inclined to go back to meditating rather than dealing with the obviously irksome tendencies of his companion.

Whirling to face the object, Haine was proven correct, seeing as the sand on the bottom half was about one quarter of what the sum amount of sand seemed to be.

"Couldn't you just have looked?" the redhead asked, turning back to face the albino.

Haine's eyes sparkled darkly, a smirk like oil sliding over his features. "That takes all the fun out of it. It's like with you. Do you have any idea how fun it is to listen to you squirm?"

_Options_

Sitting in his cloud, Badou could only marginally make out Haine's sitting form as his mind cleared. His anger abating with the flow of nicotine surging through his veins, he smiled to himself, exhaling in Haine's general direction as his mind grew clearer.

"You know," he said, his voice slurred as he wound down from the nicotine-deprived euphoria, "you should start drinking tea or something. Calms ya down."

He heard the albino snort. "At least it wouldn't clog up my lungs. And I quite like my stress reliever, thank you very much."

"At least my stress reliever doesn't kill dozens of people. Seriously, you should look into your options."

_Change_

Some things, he knew would never change. Politics, scandals, crime. But as he watched the albino sleeping next to him, the pale chest rising and fall smoothly and quietly, he realized some things, he never wanted to change. Because if they did, all hope for the world he knew and loved would be gone in the blink of a ruby eye.

_Discipline__  
_  
He had to give the little girl credit, she had a helluva lot of courage. But on the other end, Haine was also doing surprisingly well.

Badou had been griping at the snow-haired bastard to let Nill stitch him up one of these times, seeing as the poor girl practically worshiped the ground he walked on. And this time, much to Badou's glee, he had been to tired to argue. Even Haine, mister shoot-my-ass-full-of-bullets-and-I'll-just-spit-them-back-at-you, had been so shot up that he had just lain down on the floor of Nill's room in the back of the church and laid still on his stomach. Nill, bless her tweenie heart, had sprung for the first aid kit before he had even hit the floor.

By the time she returned, Badou had also taken a seat on the floor, though a much less horizontal one. He himself wasn't all to banged up, seeing as he had only gotten into the damned building three quarters of the way through the fight. And he could only watch in quiet wonder as Nill, the only female he had ever known that Haine let get even near him, all but smother him.

He knew then, as he saw one of Haine's hands twitch, that it was taking all of the discipline the albino had not to jump up and run away. And as Badou watched, it was taking all the discipline he had to keep himself from jumping up and shooing the small angel girl away, cawing at her to leave the tough work to the big boys and to just wait until they gave her their clothes to stitch up. Sighing, he chose to simply look away, stealing a small roll of gauze to tend to his own wounds before his discipline broke.

Sometimes jealousy was a *****.

_Possession_

It always warmed the cigarette addict's heart when, after a rough night, he and Haine would curl up on his old mattress and just lay with each other. Too tired from whatever activities had occurred previously, they would eventually fall asleep on each other. And though Haine didn't know it, Badou loved to wait until the albino was asleep, his pale face buried in the crook of his partner's neck, so he could trace the pale skin in winding, cryptic patterns. He knew that the scars weren't there anymore, but he loved to trace the places where they had once been, thinking that he was sketching a masterpiece on the purest canvas known to man.

But what made the small activity precious to him, was that he always imagined he was painting the picture with his own blood.  
_  
__Idiocy_

Every night they could manage, Haine and Badou would scamper back to Haine's apartment before a predetermined time. Planting themselves on Haine's man-eating couch, they would turn on their favourite program. Cackling and howling like the teenage boys they were at heart, they would, without fail, wake the neighbors. And when the other tenants would shout at them through Haine's padlocked door, the dastardly duo would swear back in unison, only to turn back to the small television and turn the volume up louder.

Because in all reality, what person in their right mind wouldn't love a good old episode of MXC?

_Technology_

"What he **** is that?" Badou said with stark disbelief, staring angrily at the small piece of plastic in Haine's outstretched hand.

"It's a camera asshole. You use it to take pictures," was all his reply turned out to be.

Taking the small "camera", Badou inspected it suspiciously. Fiddling with it for a few moments, he looked up at Haine angrily when he couldn't find the lone feature he was looking for. "You shithead," he said angrily, waving the small thing in his hand for emphasis, "there's no place for film in this goddamn thing!"

"It's digital."

"...f***."

_Music_

When Badou got a stereo, it was manner from Heaven. He would plop in his favourite CD, and crank it up until he couldn't hear himself think. All he could do was jive like the mad dancer he was to the pounding rhythms beating in his apartment.

On one such occasion, he was developing his mad skills, enjoying the lack of interruption he was experiencing with great fervor. But when the song ended, and the track went silent to transfer to the next one, he became aware of a very familiar cackle coming from the general location of his door.

Looking over, he found Haine, apparently having collapsed on the floor, convulsing with maniacal laughter as he held his nonexistent stomach.

"What?" Badou asked indignantly.

Through the gasping breaths of his partner, Badou caught the general idea that his "jiving" make him appear like he was having some manner of fatal seizure.

Maybe dancing just wasn't his thing.

_Rope_

Even with his extensive working career, one thing never ceased to make the hairs on the back of Badou's neck stand on end. Whenever he and Haine hunkered down in the albino's apartment for a movie night, they would always end up watching an old classic from Haine's vast collection.

And it irritated him to no end when Haine made him watch Alfred Hitchcock movies, because he would always end up screaming like a little girl and all but leaping into the albino's lap when things got just a little too dramatic.

And after one such night, Haine had taken up the habit of carrying a small piece of braided rope with him.

Badou didn't sleep for a week after wards.


	2. Set 2

_Scenery_

Badou knows there isn't much to look at from his apartment window, but the more he watches, the more he realizes, Haine is the only scenery he really needs to get by.

_Sky High_

Sometimes he'll catch Haine staring at the tower off in the distance. A blank look on his face, and looking as if he were forever lost in the memories Badou knew plagued his mind, he wonders what the albino sees when he stares at that tower.

Because the only thing he sees is a sky high monument to pain and torment.

_Commands_

When Haine is asleep, or on the verge of a frail dream, Badou can often get the dog within him to obey simple commands. His favorite, without argue, is stay.

_Journey_

It's a long and dangerous road the travel, along the tunnels of steel and grime. But they know that at the end of each tunnel, there is a light. And though they haven't yet reached the end of some tunnels, they always know the lights at the end of each will always be there, waiting for their arrival

_Claim_

Haine was a paradox. Forever in a limbo, caught between the red, murderous heat of summer, and the chilled white frost of winter, he danced the line of life and death, teasing both sides to make a grasp at him.

As of yet, no side had yet laid claim to him.

_Chill_

When winter came, and the warmth of the city dwindled, Haine was always more than happy to oblige to Badou's requests to "share body heat". Not only was in an excuse to spend time with him, but he also found that it not only ebbed the chill in his body, but also ebbed the chill in his heart.

_Sun_

When Haine walked alone, he would often tune out the simple chatter of the masses around him. Reduced to his own thoughts, he would wander aimlessly until he came upon something of interest. And one day, he came upon something of such great value it surprised even him.

He found the sun.

But it was the sun held in a small flower that caught his attention. On a small back street he found it, a lone daffodil. Glowing yellow with enough heart to put the sun to shame, he was so stunned upon seeing it there that he stopped in his tracks. Unable to deny it's small charm, he smiled to himself.

A sun steeped in shadows, but whose glow was still brighter than any darkness could ever overthrow.

_Ticklish_

Haine was choked with undeniable laughter, holding his stomach and trying not to cry from his position on the floor. The sight before him was worthy of a comedy in and of itself, and he could hardly believe it was happening.

Badou, of all people, had fallen at the hands of Nill.

Literally, fallen, because Nill, of all people, had found his ticklish spot.

And currently was abusing it to the point of sadistic torture. Or what a five-foot-tall angel girl could be capable of as far as cruel sadism went. But in all reality, it looked as if her merciless tickling would leave bruises on the poor red head's side.

_Halloween_

Badou always had the grandest time making fun of Haine on Halloween. Mostly because he always managed to get the albino into a leather-bound, studded, dog costume. Complete with collar and dog tags, imprinted with "Property of Badou Nails: BACK OFF."

_Reindeer_

The only festive decoration Badou put up for Christmas was a wreath on his door. But despite the lack of festive decoration, the two boys would always get into holiday discussions. And as always, they would always get into the discussion about Santa Claus. Badou, still youthful in his mentality, said that the jolly old man did in fact exist, and delivered presents to anyone but them.

Because really, they had been naughty boys.

Haine on the other hand, didn't really care for the matter. What he did care for, however, was the idea of reindeer jerkey. And much to the dismay of Badou, that Christmas the albino had his eyes continually glued to the sky, looking for a tell tale meal on the fly.

_Coffee_

"Holy shit man! THIS IS LIKE LEGAL CRACK!" Badou shrieked as he finished his tenth quad-shot breve latte, shaking like a epileptic man introduced to the magic of disco balls.

Haine could only shake his head, hoping to god that this new addiction wouldn't be permanent.

Because if it was, at the rate Badou was drinking his monthly wages away, the redhead would be more than likely moving in whith him by the end of the week because of lack of rent money.

Sometimes fate was a bitch.

_Family_

There were two things in his life he knew that he didn't need. One, a lover. And two, a family.

At random days during the week Haine would get the feeling that his heart was aching. He knew then that it was because of one of the things he knew he didn't need. And as usual when he was down, he would sneak into Badou's apartment and fall asleep on the red head's bed, even if said red head was not home, and simply out drinking again.

As he slept that night, he failed to notice the red head come in during the small hours of the morning. But the red head did notice the fact that there were tear streaks down the albino's alabaster face, shining in the light of the moonlight slanting through the windows.

Quietly crawling into the bed, he curled up around his companion, falling asleep quickly and hoping death would not greet him the next morning.

Haine woke the next morning, unknowing that during his rest he had shown such emotion. Upon seeing the red head, sleeping gently against his chest, he couldn't help but smile. That day, he let Badou cuddle with him, and admitted that both of the things he thought he didn't need, he already had.

_Cost_

More often than not, one of the two teens needed food. Badou the majority of the time. During one such event, in which Haine was unable to wrangle the chain smoker into buying his own goddamn groceries, Badou had cornered him with the undeniable trump card that he was sick.

Besides the mental illness he had anyway.

So, Haine unquestioningly went to the local supermarket, purchased the listed food items and over the counter drugs, and returned to the ailing man's apartment.

For a week the albino cared for the man, silent as he always was, reserving his acumen for when it would actually bother the photographer.

At the end of Badou's short-lived sickness, he sat up in bed, fully clothed and sentient for the first time in days. Looking to Haine, he sighed, beginning to remove his shirt with an irked expression on his face.

All the while, Haine was grinning ear to ear.

He never did things for free.


	3. Set 3

_Wrapped_

Whilst they sit atop a skyscraper, waiting and watching the world pass beneath their tired feet, Badou looks once again to Haine's hands. Pale, long, and lean, weapons of destruction and malice, but of an art entirely their own. He wonders then how many men those hands have killed, and how many more will lie dead in their wake.

How many more lives will those steel rings take before they fall from those marble digits?

He smiles mentally to himself then, thinking wryly to himself that he should one day get Haine a ring. He knows not the origins of the ones he has, and doesn't particularly care to. As long as they mean Haine's ownership belongs to no one else, they mean nothing. But if he were to get the albino one, he would be forever remembered.

Forever wrapped around Haine's finger.

_Tomfoolery_

When the blood is spilled, and smoke slashes lines through the air like translucent daggers, the game begins. Running and hiding, dodging and getting hit, it's all a part of their never ending game. Badou without smokes, Haine without sanity, run circles around their opponents, laughing like the maniacs they are as they drill holes through whoever opposes them. But to them, it's not killing, it's not just a job.

It's a hell of a lot of fun when you do it right.

_Invisible_

Sometimes Badou wonders if Haine really exists. The way he comes and goes, disappearing and reappearing like a ghost, deathly pale skin always shining in an alabaster light. Eyes bled to the color of the wine in his veins, his gaze is one that grown men have trouble holding. But to Badou, Haine is a source of light. He's like the moon, caught in perpetual darkness but still glowing with a light that never truly leaves.

And invisible sun, orbiting around his limited world.

_Friends_

Badou would never have called the relationship he and Haine share "friendly". It was a violent, possessive, blessedly cursed circle of passion, blood, and bullets. He'd never say this aloud, of course, because who in their right mind would believe that those words were actually his? Hell, they'd probably accuse him of plagiarizing some dead shit-faced poet that he'd never heard of.

But as he and Haine sit atop the church, looking down at a family leaving the small sanctuary, Badou can't help but smile as the child, a boy of about four or five, played on the stone steps, apparently having a ball with a friend that could only hold the magic of one that was imaginary.

Looking over to Haine, who is also watching the child, with a cocked head and a mildly interested gleam in his eyes, he asks, "Would you be my imaginary friend?"

The only reaction he gets is a smile.

_Domestic_

It never takes Haine long to realize when Badou has filched something from his apartment. And every time that happens, he reacts in one of two ways. If he's in a good mood, he'll just wait until he sees the cyclops next, hit him over the head with the butt of one of his guns, and take the item back. If he's in a bad mood, he'll stalk into the red-head's apartment, a wolfish grin on his face, and tease and taunt the other man in such a way that it makes him not only regret taking the item without permission, but want to do it more often if it means getting that kind of treatment.

But Haine, apparently with the ability to sense such thoughts, always leaves right in the middle of what Badou thinks will be a sweeter reward than stealing the item.

And every time Badou swears at him all the way out, chasing after the cackling albino and shouting that domestic abuse is illegal... or something like that.

_Kings_

Kings didn't need crowns to rule. They didn't need titles to hold authority. They didn't need medals to have glory. They didn't need subjects to be valued. They didn't need to die to be remembered.

Blinking groggily, Badou smiled to himself as he lay on his mattress, Haine sleeping silently beside him. Here they were, on their throne, the only subject to truly command being each other. Their crowns were of thorns, covered in blood. Their titles were invisible, phantoms that ghosted through the streets without censorship. Their medals were their scars, welts of fights long past worth more to them than any amount of gold would ever be. Alive they were, though dead to others they surely seemed, they ruled over the hell hole that they called home.

Because really, kings of pain didn't need anything but.

_Being_

A shot whizzed past Badou's ear, the whistle temporarily deafening him as he ducked down low, rolling behind a stone column as bullets pelted the side opposite him. He was a heaving, bloody mess, barely hanging onto his gun and barely hanging onto his life. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes to a man standing before him.

And seeing as it wasn't Haine, it couldn't be anything but bad news.

The man hauled him up by his shoulder, slugging him across the face as his feet dangled in the air. But the only thing he had time to register was the pain before he was released, falling to the ground in a bedraggled heap, holding a cold hand to his bruised cheek as he looked up to see what had caused the sudden change in his fortunes.

The moments following made him change everything he thought he knew about life.

Haine, his savior of a thousand times, was latched onto his attacker's arm, teeth clamped over the man's forearm in a vice grip that threatened to surely break whatever bones the man had in his arm. But Haine, unlike his usual habit, was taking damage himself. The man's free hand was pummeling the albino's head, already having broken the skin somewhere, causing a flow of blood to trickle down Haine's alabaster face.

Hit after hit Haine took, and Badou began to grow sick, imagining that any moment his companion's skull would be surely crushed. His thoughts racing, he wondered why on earth Haine wasn't doing anything. Why hadn't he ripped the man's arm off, shot him dead, something?

"Haine!" he finally shouted, "DO SOMETHING!"

When the ruby gaze found its way to him, Badou was taken aback by the panic of it. It wasn't Haine then, he knew. It was the Dog, and the dog, panicking for blood, had no command to lead him. Lost in a fight he didn't know how to win, he surely then could have used Haine's cunning brutality, for now, his own blood blinding him, he knew nothing.

Standing shakily as the active stalemate continued, Badou finally shouted,

"SICK HIM!"

In that moment, everything changed.

Startled backward by the flurry of movement, Badou tripped over the corner of the column behind which he had been hiding. Falling on his ass, he stopped dead as his ears were once again graced with the sound of flesh tearing from bone.

But there was no scream.

Not daring to look himself, he waited, for what seemed like an eternity, until the building around him was entirely still. Haine's breathing, which he could usually only just hear, was silent entirely. Finally sitting up, he looked around the column, seeking the mop of white hair that would keep his attention away from whatever other carnage lay beyond.

Finding his focus point, curled on the floor with blood splattered from his snowy head down to his feet, Badou rose and strode quickly over to where Haine lay. The alabaster face was blank as he turned it to face him, eyes closed and blood crusting from every crevice on his face. From his nose, from his mouth, from his ears, from his eyes, it was no surprise to Badou why Haine was out. He would have to wait until Haine's miracle body could regenerate itself before he could talk to him, and even then he didn't know if he would.

Because whatever his condition, whatever Haine had done, whatever he himself would do, the feelings he had would never change. People like them, fraudulent as they seemed, lasted forever. And in that forever they would share in silence more than any normal person could ever hope to have in a million words. Because that's how they were with each other, that's how they needed to be. Because if they weren't like that, they wouldn't be anything to each other, and if they weren't anything to each other...

Neither of them would be anything.

_Shield_

Listening to the red head grumble as he sits down on his couch, Haine looks over at the cyclops warily, his exhaustion putting a shorter fuse on his dynamite than he would have normally had. And now the bastard next to him was grousing about some shit that probably didn't matter one fuck or the other.

But when he heard the terms "meat shield" used, his interest was piqued a little bit more.

"What did you say?" he asked, his normally husky voice hoarse from the holes still healing in his esophagus.

"I said that you make a pretty fuck-faced meat shield, you asshole," the red head spat, rubbing at a few of his own bullet holes sorely. "I still got shot, even when I was hiding behind mister fuck-my-ass-full-of-bullets!"

And though that description of him was new, and very insulting, Haine couldn't help but laugh.

"Actually," he said, using the husk in his voice for a more risque function, "bullets only come in second to something else."

And much to his delight, Badou went silent.

_Religion_

Every time Badou stepped into the church, he couldn't help but smile, because he knew in what was left of his tar-covered heart that Haine was all the religion he would ever hope to need.

_Small_

Every time Haine goes out, he can't help but think what a small world he lives in. Every time he goes out, he sees the same people, going to the same places, at the same time, every day. Mailing letters that go nowhere, going to work that does nothing, returning to families that mean nothing. Big lies, all locked in this small, circumlocutory world.

But as he thought, there was a small group of people that weren't like these people. He was one of them, and the other shared the small bubble of true existence with him. Outcasts as the people who lived in the small world called them, kings as they called themselves. Larger than live, beyond it. Never a part of the crowd, never of the city's blood. Rather a poison inside it, walking against the crowd and smiling while they did it.

Because to them, the world was anything but small, the only keys they needed to anything being a few well aimed bullets.

_Dragons_

They wound their way through the cemeteries of the dragons, halls of once great steel beasts that ruled the underground with wind and bullets of sound. Within their great halls they could find sanctuary, silence. And though each dragon's hall was of itself magnificent, it was they, who at night went down together, and came out together when dawn came once more, who gave the halls of long dead dragons meaning. But the meaning, only understood by the dragons' spirits who watched them and they themselves, would ever understand.

Bonding, in any circumstance, was best done in private, or done in the company of benevolent ghosts. In the case they chose, both went hand in hand.

_Night_

When the fight raged and the bullets deafened, when the moon shone and blood glistened, the night was full. When the shouts echoed and the anger was tangible, when insanity hastened into speed beyond that of any eye, the night was complete. When the curtains were drawn and the music of lust locked away in privacy, when two became one in a dance of death, the night would be whole. Night, for the both of them, was the only time when they could be everything they needed each other to be.

_Cowboys_

"Fuck no."

Badou pouted in the ablino's direction, clasping his hands together and kneeling before him. "Please?" he begged. "Just one western! I promise it'll just be this once! I have to sit through all your Hitchcocks! You can sit through one western!"

Haine snorted. "I hate watching those damn things," he growled, looking away before Badou's charm could wear him down.

"Why? They're fantastic for the time period!" the red head argued, standing and following after his companion tenaciously.

"Bull shit. It's like watching a shit faced version of what we do. Except for the bad guys in those pieces of crap are just Jews painted red, and the heroes are just gay cunts who enjoy the feeling of assless leather chaps way too much," came his reply.

Badou was stunned silent, smirking devilishly as a thought came to him.

"Don't you own a pair of leather chaps?"


	4. Set 4

_Blinker_

Badou could always tell when he had gotten Haine's goat, because on the off chances when he did, the albino's left eye would blink in an erratic pattern. Always the one for slapstick humor himself, he often referred to it as Haine's "blinker."

And on one such occasion, as Haine stood on the stairs to the church, fuming as his left eye twitched, Badou couldn't help but smirk as he said, "You're blinker's on." An idea coming to mind, Badou looked behind his partner and at his ass, where if Haine really had blinkers they would probably truly lie. Making an affirming grunt, Badou leaned back around, looking Haine in the face as his partner got a scathingly suspicious look.

"It's blinking in Morse code. You're sayin' I'm gonna have a good night."

_Help_

It was one of the only times he had ever held a girl's hand, and it had turned out coming back to bite him square in the ass. It wasn't Nill's fault; it was just his damned luck. She had been balancing on the pews like she usually did when she was bored, but one of her lace up sandals had come loose. He had held one of her hands as she balanced, her other hand preoccupied with tying up the black lace of the untied shoe.

It had been then that Badou, in all of his great timing, had chosen to come careening through the door. Had he been going slower, he probably would not have run into the albino, but because the Cyclops had an annoying habit of wanting to do things quickly, he had nipped that possibility early in the bud.

So instead, the red head's most recent foible had sent both of the gunners tumbling to the ground. At first he had been worried for Nill's balance, and upon coming out of the tangle of idiocy that had tackled him, he only found her perfectly balanced on the pew, her shoe again tied and her small hands clasped together.

She was laughing, and Haine sighed. Help always came at some sort of a price these days.

_Lost_

Badou always loved the idea of blasphemy. He thought it was funny, how people could go against what was so called sacred and downright abuse it. Blasphemy was a game to him, one he never really minded loosing.

_Lolly_

It was a dream… or a memory that he had had that day. It seemed real… but he wasn't sure if he could trust himself. It had been a day in his early childhood, when his brother had… still been around. He had come into possession of a spare lolly, cherry in flavor if he remembered correctly. He had no intention of eating it, seeing as he already had one… but he had felt the inane urge to do something with it.

That was when he had come upon the kid in the alley. He'd caught Badou's attention because of the kid's white hair. Looking back on it, he was exactly what Badou could picture Haine looking like as a young boy.

He had held the lolly out to the child, looking down as the albino looked up at him questioningly. It was as if he was unsure what he was supposed to do with it, or as if the small token were really real.

"Here," Badou had said, as the boy had taken the confection, "matches your eyes."

The albino had looked up at him again, a look of confusion, but also gratitude greeting his gaze. He had never seen that look again, which was what had made him question the validity of the vision. But Haine's spectrum of emotions came so close… especially now, that they had been working together for so long, that Badou didn't doubt that Haine was capable of such an expression.

That was why he was still confused, and why he still had not told the albino about the vision, for fear of it being proven false… or true.

_New_

Every six months, a strange occurrence would happen regarding Badou's partner. Haine had finally come to the conclusion that about every six months was when he needed to go out and get new clothes. Mostly because the ones he had could only bear having so many patches in them. Not to belittle Nill's work, but they just didn't hold up against the beatings that Haine dished out to them.

So it was when Haine walked into Buon Viaggio in a strikingly slim fitting pair of new jeans that Badou knew that the albino had come into his new wardrobe. And as Badou glued his eyes to the carefully clothed ass, he couldn't help but think that maybe new things weren't so bad.

_1st_

Badou had never been a competitive guy. Sure he was reckless, but he didn't really care when other people beat him. He cared if he won, but otherwise everything was pretty much the same.

But the first time he and Haine had gotten to first base, he couldn't help being competitive. And, luckily, it had paid off.

He had been 1st in the home run to first base.

_Cuddle_

It wasn't often that Haine let Badou cuddle with him. Even rarer was the time when he consciously let Badou cuddle with him. The few times that the red head had gotten away with it was when the albino had been half unconscious or asleep entirely.

And even then he still put up a hell of a fight most of the time.

But one day, when the day had been warm and the sun had been shining, a day in whose shadow Haine and Badou sat happily in Haine's darkening apartment, smiling for no reason at all and just enjoying the calm of a good day, Haine let Badou cuddle with him.

Actually, the albino had asked him to cuddle with him.

Badou didn't know if it was just the sun that had gotten to Haine's head, or just the good mood that they were sharing, but he found that he didn't particularly care. It was an easy question to answer, and he found that as they sat on the couch, listening to nothing but each other's heartbeats, that even though he didn't often get to see this side of the albino, that the wait in between was definitely worth the rewards, only to be reaped when they were ready.

_Kitchen_

Badou had awoken one early winter morning to the smell of cinnamon sugar strong in his nostrils and the warmth of a working oven wrapping him in a blanket of content. He had opened his eyes grudgingly, not wanting the blissful sleep he had been enjoying just yet. But, knowing that he had an albino to take care of, he rose anyway, both wryly eager and slightly afraid to see the results of their… "roughhousing" from the night before. He was still slightly tired from the endeavor, but not too tired yet to forget a blanket to protect his warmly sated skin from the chill of the cold morning.

When he walked into the kitchen, the Cyclops smiled. Haine was wrapped in a blanket himself, leaning against the counter with the old quilt draped over the pits of his elbows as they rested low around his waist. He was without a shirt, but seemed not to mind in the warmth of the kitchen. Sure enough, he still had a few bruises and red scratch marks from the night before, as if his body had chosen to heal them more slowly for the sake of the red head's amusement.

Haine's mouth tilted into a sleepy grin as the red head entered the kitchen. Badou walked over to him, placing both of his hands on the counter on either side of Haine's hips. He leaned in close to the albino, asking him lazily, "Buns in the oven yet?"

He felt rather than saw a slow grin spread across Haine's porcelain face. "Not that kind," he albino replied quietly, obviously having caught the red head's innuendo.

"Let's fix that, shall we?"

_High_

It was smoke. It was nicotine. It was blood. It was bullets. It was passion. It was hate. It was everything. It was nothing. It was how they lived. It was how they died. It was who they met. It was who they didn't meet. It was who they knew. It was who they didn't know. It was talking. It was singing. It was laughing. It was crying. It was running. It was falling.

It was a permanent high, if you thought about it right. And as Badou sat atop the roof of his apartment building, smoking his first fag in over twenty-four hours, he couldn't help but see the correlation, the relation, the emotion, the motion, the commotion, in everything.

It was life, and it was death.

_Drunk_

The first time Badou got really drunk, like really hammered, he was sure that he was going to die. Not only from the fact that he had practically drank himself to death, but also because in his intoxicated state he had failed to notice that Haine was in one of his moods. While in which, Badou had attempted to lay it on his partner.

He had succeeding in getting some skin, but it was the skin of the albino's knuckles connecting with his chin that he had received that night instead of his intended endeavor.

He'd woken up the next day with a roaring headache, a bruise blossoming over half of his face, and a very pissed albino.

Since facing that day, and all of the apologies required therein, he had vowed never to over drink again.

_Dressed_

Badou had never liked the Priest. He scared him, freaked him out. He had always felt that even if the man claimed that he couldn't see, that he still could, and that every time he looked at someone he was thinking something perverse and dirty.

Which was the entire reason that one day Badou's patience had finally burst when he could have sworn that the blond man had been staring at Haine's ass. Nice though it was, he considered such territory owned by him and him alone, and not even the will of God could take it from him without a fight.

"Stop undressing him with your eyes!" Badou had snapped, pulling Haine by the shoulder behind him, as if his measly body could protect the albino from the twisted line of sight of the Priest.

"Who says it's just him?" the blind man had replied, a twisted smirk curling over his lips.

Badou hadn't gone back to the church since then, and hadn't let Haine go in unless he knew that Nill was going to be there to protect him.

_Ribbon_

Badou had never really believed in Santa. It was just kind of a joke to him. But on Christmas Eve, so late that had Santa existed the red head would have probably been competing with him, Badou took his place. The two gunners and the giraffe had set up some Christmas decorations around the church to give Nill a pleasant first Christmas. They had succeeded, and had all agreed to stay the night to share the morning with her.

But, when the girls had awoken the next morning, it had been to a violent bout of swearing and a belt of maniacal laughter emanating from the pews a short distance away.

As the two girls looked to investigate, they found Badou, holding his stomach and laughing so hard that tears were coming out of his eye. Next, and they could hardly believe their eyes, they found Haine, who was swearing so loudly that they were sure he was going to wake the spirits buried in the small cemetery out back.

But they couldn't help but sympathize with Badou's laughter, because somehow, during the dark of the night, the red head had managed to not only get Haine's shirt off, but wrap him in bright silk ribbon from head to toe, sufficiently tying his arms in a useless yet humorous fashion.

"I am not a ****ing Christmas present!" the albino roared at the Cyclops, his anger mixed with embarrassment shown by the blush that was dying his pale cheeks almost as red as his ribbons.

"Merry Christmas Nill," Badou managed to choke out between his bouts of painfully joyful laughter. "Hope it was what you wanted."

The little angel girl just giggled soundlessly, running over to pet her ribbon-wrapped puppy and enjoy his humiliation while she could. After all, it wasn't every day she got to see Haine in ribbons.

_Sometimes_

Whenever Haine got into philosophical conversations, Badou couldn't help but let his mind wander. The albino would often scorn him for it, but other than that he received no deterrent for his actions. But somewhere along the line, Badou decided to play some tricks on the words of his companion. They were often innuendos, but he also found that if he spouted off random words at the appropriate times, he could turn the conversation completely around.

One case, where Haine had been spouting of spiritual questions about what life was and wasn't, Badou chose to blurt out the word "hips," following his train of thought that had previously been focused on his partners hips.

What his word had turned out to make Haine's question sound like was, "Hips, sometimes that happens, right?"

Haine didn't laugh, but Badou sure as hell thought it was funny.


	5. Set 5

_Different I_

The morning Badou complained that he and Haine should try something different, he had no idea just how maliciously conniving the albino could be. He had gone about his business for the rest of the day, having ditched the albino as they went on separate jobs.

But when he had returned to his apartment that night, it had been to the door open. He had edged inside cautiously, screaming like a ninny when he was shoved to the floor over the top of his couch.

When he looked up Haine was standing, one foot on the back of the couch, covered in blood and smiling like a lunatic. His feet were bare, and he was wearing a pair of jeans so tight fitting that Badou was practically drooling.

But it was Haine's accessory that struck fear into the heart of the chain smoker.

Haine had a whip with him, and as he flicked it against the floor, he blanched as the albino said in that same, so-crazy-you're-going-to-****-your-pants voice, "So, different enough for you, Badou-kun?"

_Different II_

Badou always loved revenge. It was the sweetest of all the social endeavors he could count. He still had whip burn from the night Haine had chosen to follow his directions and do something "different"… along with couple of bite marks. Even though he had probably been more turned on than he had ever been in his life the entire time during that experiment, he still saw the stakes uneven between them; the majority of them resting prominently in Haine's favor. And that, for him, was not going to fly.

So as he sat, drowning in a blue fairy costume that he had found at the Bishop's place, staring up at Haine stare down at him with the color all but sucked from his face, he couldn't help but smile. He twirled the small plastic wand in his hand.

"What?" he said in reaction to Haine's obvious horror. "I thought I'd try something different too. Make a wish, pup."

_Out_

Badou never really understood Haine's fashion sense. His shirts were edgy and flashy, yes, but one pattern the red head had noticed was that every single pair of Haine's pants had a strange band that wrapped around the upper thigh. He didn't know if the albino wanted to accentuate just how skinny his legs were, or if they just came that way. But one day, when they had been out and around, some drunk fag had stumbled out of a bar and literally tried to get in Haine's pants from the ankle up. It had been at the same time as the man has halted by the bands that Haine beat the **** out of him, but Badou had seen the momentary lapse.

"So that's what they're for," he had said after Haine had smoothed his feathers. The albino had just looked at him with an expression that had he not been smoothed out would have undoubtedly spelled the end of his partner.

"They keep fags out," he continued, motioning to the failsafe with approval. "I like them. They make sure that no one's gonna touch what's mine."

_Beyond_

Badou always knew he had the talent of being annoying. He lived with it, worked with it, made a job out of it. But the day he learned when it wasn't useful was the day that he almost lost everything.

He had known about Haine's dog side for a while, and had come to the conclusion that Haine would be comfortable with him talking about it. They were partners after all, and if they couldn't talk about things, they wouldn't be able to do anything at all.

But as Badou realized, talking too much could be worse than not talking at all.  
He had been drilling Haine about his inner dog, teasing him, prodding at him in what he had thought to be good jest. Haine had appeared to be ignoring him, like he usually did, but when Badou made one loose comment, one that in comparison to the other things he had said was not even that important, his partner snapped.

He had only just had enough time to jump out of the way before those crushing jaws came clamping down on the air where he had previously been standing, a vicious snarl rumbling through the air as Badou stood back trembling.

"Don't you ever ****ing say that again," Haine snarled at him, his red eyes glinting viciously as his temper boiled dangerously.

Badou stood in silence as his partner walked away, stunned and frightened by how close he had come. But dismayed he was also by how far beyond he had gone in relation to Haine's limits. He supposed, then, as he watched his partner disappear into the city, that even dogs could only take so much.

_Pouting_

Badou knew for a fact that Haine was physically incapable of pouting. His body just wouldn't let him. His lips wouldn't quiver, his eyes wouldn't water, and he just couldn't do it. But what Badou found out the hard way was that Haine was verbally capable of pouting, and that his body could do a wide range of other things to wheedle the red head into doing what he wanted.  
He remembered fondly when Haine had leaned into him, his pale hand resting dangerously high on the red head's thigh, his nose cold as it brushed against his cheek. He had remembered Haine's warm breath on his lips, and his hips resting against the chain smoker's side in a suggestive angle.

"You're so unfair, Badou," he had said, his tone husky as he whispered to his partner.

If you didn't call that pouting, Badou wasn't sure what you would call it.

_Buttons_

Haine was always infamous for having torn up clothes. It was how he functioned. If he didn't have skin showing through some kind of tear or imperfection, then he wasn't happy.

But even Haine had begun to see a pattern in the case of his button up shirts. Every time he tried one on, he found that the bottom button would be missing. He had always figured that they had just popped off somewhere, and seeing as he didn't really care who noticed his hips and his belly button through the triangular gap they formed, he had never bothered to try to do anything about them.

But one day, when he had been cleaning out Badou's apartment for the sake of it smelling to high heaven, he had found a jar. It was small, and had been sitting clandestinely in the smoker's sock drawer. But inside, and Haine couldn't help but smile in amusement, was a collection of very familiar looking buttons.

"So that's where they've been going."

_Surrender_

Haine, despite his standard appearances, was usually not a confrontational person. He avoided contact, eye, body, conversation, anything to get himself by without having to deal with the daily life of normal people. But when Naoto walked in, everything changed. She'd harp on him, harass him, wheedle at him until he would leave or snap at her.

But he never let himself really snap. He would only make an angry comment or make a rude hand gesture (he had more than most people knew), and then leave. But finally, after so many weeks of taunting, prodding, and irritating, Naoto finally got what she wanted.

She got Haine, and all of his full bore anger, at her disposal. It had been a game all along, to see who would give in first. Who would be the first to fold and surrender to the other. The victor would be proclaimed king of the castle, and would claim rule over whatever they had to compete over.

That day, despite her pride and her skills, Naoto unconditionally surrendered.

But Badou knew, that even in the end, he was the winner. Haine would do anything for him, so all along Naoto had been picking the fight with the wrong person.

She'd surrendered to the underdog, without even knowing it.

_Dreamscape_

Dreams were worth more than gold in a city like theirs. They were the only life left for anyone with half an imagination. They gave hope, even when all was hopeless and lost. But sometimes, every once in a good long time, dreams came true. They weren't always the same as what people expected, strange little blessings that at first no one really knew how to understand.

Nill was an example. Sweet, innocent, pure. A shining example that out of horrid things, beauty and peace could still be wrought.

Haine was also one, whether he himself believed it or not. He was the perfect example of designed perfection. Porcelain skin, indestructible, perfectly maintained. Everything a dream could be was embodied in him.  
And luckily for Badou, he knew just where to look past that iron shield to see just where the angel began, and the façade ended.

_Halo_

There were lots of iconic images associated with angels. Wings, golden harps, but most prevalent was the halo. Badou didn't know much about them, or why angels saw it fashionable to have golden rings hovering above their heads at all times, but he could see one parallel.

What might have been a collar to Haine, was more than definitely a halo to him.

_Parallel_

As much as they hated each other, Naoto and Haine were similar. They acted alike, insulted alike, slouched alike, glared at each other the same. Hell, if you stuck a mirror between the two, they probably couldn't tell the difference between them and their own reflections.

Of course, when Badou informed Haine of this, he just about lost his remaining eye.

_Ink_

Pointlessness was something that teenagers were supposed to be able to live by. It was the basis of most of their codes of conduct. And because Haine and Badou were yet young, they could still lay claim to a good portion of that stupidity.

And their chance to flaunt it was finally allotted when one day they both sauntered their way into the church, Badou with his left sleeve rolled up to show off a newly acquired tattoo on his arm. It was a dog design, one that he'd thought would bring a different title to his half of their partnership.

Because in all seriousness, Eye-Patch was getting really old.

He was hoping for something like Mad Dog or something, but he hadn't had the chance to test it out yet. He'd boasted about it to the priest, while Nill looked on questioningly at the reddened flesh, occasionally glancing at Haine to see if he showed any signs of contamination.

"So," the Priest asked at last, "did you both get one?"

Haine nodded while Badou elaborated, and Nill rushed over to the albino, shoving up his sleeves to look at his arms. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be found on his arms, and she looked up at him curiously.

"Forget it, Nill," Badou said, putting a hand on her shoulder with a smug smile on his face. "That tat is off limits: approved personnel only. I'll get him another one, just for you. But this one is mine."

_Cities_

The term "city" was often associated with a large assembly of large structures that are inhabited by a large number of people. Typically, it is also associated with general wealth and happiness, and overall peace if you ignored the smudged parts of town.

That's why the scum-hole they lived in would never be called a city. It was a burn mark on a map that actually led to somewhere. None of those maps existed within the city, so it was only a hypothetical idea that the city even existed at all.

But as much as it was nowhere, and as much as it might have been somewhere, to a small group of people, it would be home forever.

_Proximity_

The couch Haine had wasn't exactly luxurious. It was old, scratchy, and pretty small in comparison to their proportions. But sometimes that could serve as an advantage. Because it was so small, it often forced them into close proximity with each other. Which, of course, Badou never minded.  
But one day, when he sat contentedly plugging what was left of his lungs with tar, Haine grabbed his wrist, keeping his desperately needed nicotine away from his desperately parched lungs.

"I can't take this, Badou," he said, and if Haine Rammsteiner was ever capable of leaning, it would have been a shining example. "What is it about that stick of nicotine that attracts you so much?"  
If there had been any distance between them Badou would have surely devoured it to get at the tone in Haine's voice. "The same thing," he said, thanking god for what close proximity the couch demanded, "that attracts me to you."

"And what's that?"

"Knowing that one day I'll die because of one of you. And seeing as your both so pleasurable, I think it will be a pleasant death at least."


	6. Set 6

_Disappear_

In a city controlled by the mob, it wasn't hard to figure out what happened to someone when they suddenly disappeared. There were thousands of explanations, each more plausible than the next. But when it came to people who just downright _wouldn't_ disappear, that took quite a bit more guessing to understand. There could be relations, pay offs, potential employment, any number of things.

Or, in the case of Badou and Heine, just a hell of a lot of luck.

_Silk_

Neither of them had ever bothered to possess nice things. They couldn't afford fancy wine (tasted like shit anyway), didn't bother with fancy tuxes or shoes that required polishing. Hell, they'd probably get blood on them anyway. But one year, on the eve of his birthday, Haine had given the Cyclops a set of deep, ruby silk sheets. The chain smoker had been confused at first, wondering what on earth the albino had been thinking. What use could he have for something so fragile?

That night, he had found out first hand just how wonderful silk sheets felt. They ran like water against his skin, light as snowflakes, and gentle as a twilight breeze. But they warmed, as skin did. Cool, smooth skin like that of his partner, warming to a fevered flush the longer he lingered.

_Stars_

City smog was an astrologists' worst nightmare. That was probably the exact reason why their city tended to have no astrologists. If a high wind kicked up in the middle of the night, you might be able to see _one_ if you were exasperatingly lucky or stoned out of your mind. But thanks to Badou, Haine had found a vice with which he could see plenty of stars, whenever he so chose to ask for them.

And Badou, the gentleman he always was, never once refused him.

_Misery_

Badou was a miserable person. He had a miserable apartment, made a miserably low wage, had miserable acquaintances, and even more miserable friends. He had a miserable past, and more than likely, a miserable future. But there was one thought in his miserable little life that comforted him slightly.

That maybe, even if he died miserable, he wouldn't die alone.

_Weapons_

It didn't take much in their city to find a weapon. You could more often than not find discarded daggers lying around in the alleys, clips of dropped and completely unused ammunition just waiting to be picked up by someone that could use them. Just wandering the streets was like walking through a massive mall of free and only slightly bloodied goods.

And, Haine being the prime example, the people themselves could sometimes become weapons. Hard and cold like the metal tools they mirrored, people like him, like the sight of a knife, struck fear in the hearts of those who passed him on the street.

But one heart, much in comparison to the rest, warmed when the sight of those cold features came into view.

_Attention_

Haine would never have done well in school, the smoker one day decided. Badou, his _best friend_ and probably _only_companion, often had a hard time keeping the albino's attention, and only ever really got it when things of interest were weaseled into the conversation. If any teacher had even tried to break Haine's solid wall of I-don't-give-a-shit, they would have had the hidden drawbridge drop down on top of them and crush them beneath the weight of his indifference.

_Sugar_

Neither of them had a liking for sweet things. Badou would rather smoke a pack of cigarettes than eat a sucker. Haine… well, he just didn't care for it no matter how you put it. But one night, when Badou's lips had been too tempted to control themselves, and they had communally met in agreement, Badou had realized something.

There was a sugary flavor to Haine that was more addicting that the most potent nicotine, and more than anything, Badou loved it.

_Sunburn_

Badou always hated it when Haine got sunburned. More than the albino, to be sure, because when Haine got sunburned, Badou could never tell if it had been the sun, or his own magic touch, that had warmed Haine's icy skin to that blushing red.

_Deal_

Every once in a great while, Kiri would have live poker tournaments to raise money for repairs often needed in _Buon Viaggio_. And most of the time, (because most of the time they were the cause) Badou and Haine were manhandled into helping. Badou, whom Kiri always seemed to revel in picking on, was always forced to be a bust-boy and take people their refreshments with that sickly sweet smile on his face.

Haine, on the other hand, got a much sexier job in Badou's opinion. Haine always got to be the dealer, where he sat on his high stool, his long white fingers expertly dishing out the fateful cards with a kind of humorous malice that shone with a metallic glint in his red eyes.

Little did Kiri or the rest of the participants know that Haine had picked up the talent of being able to stack a deck to his liking, even while shuffling. And the entire time he bore a smirk so sexy that Badou always had to remind himself that he couldn't drag Haine off that stool and shag him then and there, in spite of their company.

So instead he would wait until the small gala was over, then challenge Haine to a private game of poker, and would watch with glassy eyes Haine's smile as he dealt them both in.

_Dance_

It was hard to find anything slow in the city they called home. Cars, people, light, life, it all revolved in a dizzying pace of existence and death, where no one was spared from the blurred rush until their time was finally taken.

But Badou found, one gray rainy morning, where the rain contended with the crackle of the fire, that a slow dance, his hands on Haine's hips and a slow rhythm between their lost minds, was more than enough to overpower that hustle.

_Shakira_

Every day Badou would walk past an old shop window, grimy with age, full of different televisions. They would switch channels periodically, mostly because it took all three of the shop workers to figure out how to do it, but one day, Badou caught sight of something that nearly made him faint.

Some _woman_ had, surely, stolen Haine's hips right from his body.

For a moment he was so caught up in his disbelief that he could hardly contain himself. He then rushed home and cornered Haine in their kitchen, demanding that the albino present his hips just to be one hundred percent sure.

Still partially asleep, Haine had bewilderedly complied, pulling up his loose black sleeping shirt so the Cyclops would calm himself without any drastic damage.

At that point, Badou did calm himself, as he realized with great pride that Haine's hips were far better.

Damn that woman, Shakira, anyway.

_Sacrifice_

It was always said that to live, you had to make sacrifices. Badou Nails hated this view, because it meant that, at some time, what he valued he would have to sacrifice.

The aspect that truly frightened him was that there was only one thing he owned, and that was the one thing that he outright refused to live without.

And that one thing was Haine_._

_Victory_

If there was one thing Haine was strangely bad at, it was checkers. And though Badou could only surmise that it was because Haine had never had a childhood in which to play them, the constant victory over his partner was made no less amusing.

Especially when Haine would end up swearing at the board, sulking for at least a good hour in his defeat, and eventually requiring consoling, in one form or another, from Badou.

That, to the Cyclops, was the greatest victory of all.


	7. Set 7

_Amadán_

Badou could never be sure what kind of twisted knowledge Haine possessed in the inner labyrinths of his convoluted mind. He knew most anything about everything, or so it faintly seemed. But one day, when Haine had been quietly reprimanding Badou for a particularly grueling night spent at home, he had used a word that Badou had never in his life heard before.

Of all of the things to call him, Haine had merely muttered the grudging word, "Amadán," and turned his back.

The argument over, Badou had been left in turmoil and confusion over what his partner had said. What could it have meant, truly? He knew not what language bore it, or even where to start guessing. So, the marginally intelligent person that he was, he chose to ask around and see if he could get anywhere.

After a day of searching, and unintentionally avoiding his partner, Badou finally discovered the meaning of Haine's words, and returned heavily loaded himself to his partner, who lay on their bed when he returned. The albino just glared witheringly at him, but that sour expression faded as Badou bent down and kissed the wrinkles on the pale-skinned forehead, uttering his own word in solemn reply.

"Ionúin"

_Baskervilles_

Haine never seemed like the kind of person who would enjoy reading. He seemed like he would rather be out prowling the alleys with his guns on his hips, rather than a quiet intellectual, holed up in his study reading dusty volumes until late in the night.

So needless to say when Haine started reading a large volume of a book called "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes," Badou was almost positive that the albino had lost his mind. His point was all but proven that Haine was out of his gourd when the young man started to carry the book around with him, taking every second he could spare (when he wasn't trying to keep the pages from getting bullet holes in them) to read the text inside.

At long last, Badou's patience wore thin and, one night, while Haine was a sleep, he opened the book to read some of it himself. He had decided to not be conspicuous about it and just open up to the page that Haine had left off on, a tale well within the bowels of the book, marked only by a primly folded dog-ear on the top corner of the page.

As it seemed, Haine had just begun a new tale, one called "The Hound of the Baskervilles".

And despite his best efforts, Badou wound up still sitting in rapt fascination until morning's light, reading page upon page of what was probably the most dryly written, but grimly interesting stories he had ever heard of.

So when Haine awoke that morning and trundled out into their small living room, where Badou sat huddled under a blanket, his eyes still glued to the page, he couldn't help but laugh at the other man's plight and jibe at him with one simple, yet all encompassing phrase.

"I told you so."

_Barefoot_

After having lived with Haine's strange habits for more than a short time, Badou gave up on asking him what the hell he was doing whenever he discovered another strange habit of his. There were many of them to be sure, but one in particular caught Badou's attention one night in particular. So, giving up on his own habit, he had broken down and asked the albino about it.

"Haine," he said, a puff of smoke coiling out from between his lips, "why don't you wear socks or shoes when you're home?"

The albino had looked over at him curiously, a rather smug look slithering across his face.

"Because they're always so troublesome when things get… heated," he had answered coyly, looking back down to the hand of bills he had been looking over and leaning against their kitchen counter with a purposefully tantalizing tilt to his hips.

Badou had swallowed hard as he thought minutely to himself that he rather liked that habit.

_Freeze_

It was ungodly cold the night that they got trapped. Side by side they sat, their legs intertwined in a frail attempt to keep each other warm, and their arms clasping at the thin cloak they had to share in order to at least have some semblance of protection from the blinding snow.

"We're going to freeze to death," Badou had said grimly, and the wind roared through the streets angrily in reply. Even sheltered in the alcove of the alley, the wind's cold still penetrated true, down to their bones as they shivered themselves to shatters.

"No," Haine had growled out, his pale lips tinged with blue, "we're not. Just quit worrying and concentrate on staying alive."

"I never said I was worried," Badou snapped back, and Haine's ruby gaze settled on him coldly, silently demanding an explanation.

"Even if we do freeze, at least I'll die with you in my arms."

_Courting_

Courting Haine was like courting with wolves. They danced in circles, snarled at each other, jumped back and avoided each other, eyes locked and glinting with murderous intent, hackles bristling and fangs bared the entire time. But then dominance would be established, the nights would wane, and the morning would rise with the distance between them that much smaller. They ran their business like a pack, and ruled it accordingly. But Badou couldn't help but wonder when the courting would be over, and the last of the distance, still circling and skirting between them, would be gone.

_Shiny_

The more time Badou spent with Haine, the more he got to know the small details about him. And the more small details Badou knew about Haine, the funnier he thought he was. One example was whenever they were walking together. Whether it was to get groceries or just prowling the streets at night, Haine's eyes would always dart when something shiny came into view. Whether it was the flash of light on glass, or a nickel lying in the gutter, Haine always seemed to be, for split seconds, distracted by anything that glinted.

And one day, Badou made the mistake of commenting to him about it.

"What the hell, man," he had said, rolling his eyes at the albino. "What are you, ADD or something?"

Haine had merely glared at him, a slow, withering glare that lowered dangerously the more silence clung to it, and Badou realized that what he had said was obviously not what had been applied.

"Do you have any idea how many people carry daggers in broad daylight, Badou?" Haine asked, his voice dark. "I'm sure it would scare you if you did."

It was true that for a moment he had been caught by Haine's words, but he had quickly recovered and just shaken hi s head, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

"Stupid, that's what I have you for. Having you with me is scarier than any dagger could be. Damn idiots wouldn't dare touch me even if they were armed."

At that, Haine smiled.

_Insomnia_

Haine's insomnia problem had never been a secret. Even Mimi, who barely saw him, seemed to know enough about his sleeping problem to avoid talking about it whenever those gray tell-tale bags appeared under the albino's murderous eyes.

But what everyone but the two of them didn't know was that more often than not it wasn't Haine's insomnia problem that caused those rings. Rather, it was a one-hundred-and-some-odd pound smoker that stole his late night hours away from him.

_Yellow_

It was very rare to find cars in the city anymore. No one had enough money to afford a car, let alone the gas to run it. But whenever one did end up trundling down the streets, it was always with some kind of strange circumstance following in suit.

So, needless to say, one day when Badou and Haine had been wandering the streets, looking for some gore to jump in on, and a dingy purple car had driven by, it's windows rolled down and at least two people nearly slung out the windows, shouting at the top of their lungs, "_We all live in a yellow submarine!_", it was a strange occurrence indeed.

"What the hell was that?" Haine had asked, his question betraying the fact that he really didn't care.

"Some pot-heads probably, out for a last spin," Badou had answered, shrugging nonchalantly. "I liked the song though."

_Rainbow_

"Gay" was a term that rarely occurred in non-battle situations. Haine and Badou had especially rid themselves of the habit of using it. Instead, they had come up with some far more colorful terms to express their views.

"Riding the Rainbow Train with a one-way ticket to AIDS" was just one of the many they had come up with.

_Internet_

Badou had long ago decided that Mimi was inherently evil. Especially when she introduced Haine of all people to the magic of the internet. Badou was surprised actually, how little Haine was actually interested in amongst all of the amazing, sick, and truly weird things one could find on the internet. The only thing he was interested in was how he could order guns and ammunition _and_ have it all shipped to his front door by the next day.

Badou, however, found far better uses for the vast expanse of reference material he could find. And on one of such searches, he found one thing that he was sure that he and Haine would surely enjoy.

Haine, however, was less than thrilled when a box arrived at their door one day. One that, instead of holding the special bullets he had ordered, held a very special ring.

One that, as Badou so readily informed him, wasn't made for his finger.

_Accessories_

Haine had always wondered why girls were so obsessed with accessories. Purses, necklaces, bracelets, earrings, rings, toe-rings, nose-rings, rings of every size and shape and piercings he didn't even want to know about. Most of the time, he just shrugged off their behavior as unnecessary, until one day Badou commented on just how many accessories Haine himself had.

Ironically enough, it was that same day that Badou offered him another accessory, one that took the shape of a sleek, tasteful, silver ring. One that, just as ironically, matched the one that Badou bore on the fourth finger of his right hand.

_Puppy_

"So, what do you think we would have?"

Haine looked up at his partner with a pair of rather unamused eyes. Which, though not entirely unkindly, settled on his partner with a dully questioning look. "What are you talking about?" he asked Badou groggily, his coffee cup perched on his lips as he stood leaning against their kitchen counter, his spare arm crossed abroad his bare chest. He had deep grey bags beneath his eyes, and every so often he would wince when he shifted his weight too much onto his left hip.

Compliments eu' de Badou.

"If I got you pregnant," Badou said, as if Haine's question were more obscene than his train of thought. "What do you think we would have?"

Haine's pale brows rose. "Probably some nicotine-addicted, trigger-happy lunatics. Why?" he answered in a dry tone.

Badou seemed to wilt at Haine's half of his idea. "Because," he said, looking back up at Haine a little _too_ hopefully, "I was kind of hoping for puppies."

_Sigh_

Most people hated it when others sighed. It was often a sign of disrespect or disinterest. Luckily for Badou Nails, there was only one time when Haine really sighed. And, also just as luckily, he knew that in that instance neither of the afore-mentioned things were put into application.

The only time Haine sighed was when they were laying coiled on their bed, buried in the deepest throes of the night, radiating satisfaction in the aftermath of their endeavors. He sighed only then, when the only other soul around to hear him was the one who caused the sigh in the first place, in a deep satisfactory way, his breath heady and weak in his throat as his normally sharp consciousness left him in favor of more pleasurable things.


	8. Set 8

_Sting_

Bees hadn't existed for a long time; they'd died away with the rest of the seasons that used to exist in their petulant little world. But the sting still remained. The painful itch of a knife on your arm, or the dull, yet biting, searing pressure of teeth on bare skin. And though honey had died away with the bees, Badou had found something much sweeter in its place.

_Warning_

Haine and Naoto never got along. They never even came close to getting along. So Badou was more than

surprised when Naoto, after a particularly grueling and gory battle, reached out to touch Haine on the shoulder. It was probably meant as a gesture of comfort, but Badou doubted its intentions the second he saw it.

So before Haine could even have the chance to snarl at her, Badou had swatted away her hand, his own arm draped across Haine's narrow shoulders. He could feel the both of them looking at him in surprise, and he could feel the subdued gratitude trickling from Haine.

"Back off."

_Black_

The night shielded them from everything. It shielded them from the sun, from the world, and the prying eyes of the public. The black skies of night were the only audience Badou had ever seen Haine be human in front of. So, needless to say, he had an unspoken appreciation for the color black, and all that it subtly implied.

_Late Night_

Every once in a great while, when Badou had cases outside of Granny Liza's office, he would have to pull a late-night to put together all of the info on a certain commission. On one such case, a massive undertaking on his part that required more blood, sweat, and tears that he'd expected, he had requested that Haine help him out with it.

It was after seven hours of non-stop arranging, organizing, writing, the case was finally done. And after crying out in sheer exhausted joy, and receiving no reply from his assistant, Badou finally noticed that Haine had fallen dead asleep, his body twisted and curled over the mounds of paper he had just been working on.

Badou smirked then, knowing that even though the need for help with the case had been real, the true purpose (getting Haine to fucking sleep) had been achieved.

_Unfaithful_

Every once in a great while, Mimi would wonder if Badou was ever unfaithful. It was common knowledge that he flirted with anything in heels that had a decent face, but those days seemed to have faded away in recent excursions. Now he was always trailing after Haine.

Who, admittedly, wore some killer heels in those boots of his, and had one hell of a face when he wasn't scowling.

_Famous_

"You think we'll ever be famous?" Haine looked over at the smoker through the haze that had settled around their floor. And, for once, it wasn't just Badou's smoking that had caused it. Haine had actually just gotten out of the bath, and as he often liked it so scalding hot it would give you a burn just looking at it, the mist was still rolling out of their tiny bathroom like it was going out of style.

"We already are, idiot," he replied, taking a breath and rubbing his towel up his neck, shifting his weight onto his other hip, the loose waistband of his sweat pants slinging across his stomach. "What more do you want? A red carpet and a bunch of hookers dangling off your arms?"

"I don't need the hookers."

_Buttons II_

Haine had grown accustomed to the lack of bottom buttons on his collared shirts, mostly because it pleased him to catch Badou's sparing glances at his midriff. Something twice removed from the family of "warm and fuzzy" prodded at his chest when that happened.

However, there was no such feeling when he started to find another trend: the distinct disappearance of the buttons on his pants. And it wasn't just the buttons to the pockets or the hems. No. They were the buttons on the waistband that kept his pants from falling off that seemed to be going missing.

So, after finally giving up on letting Badou keep his button secret, Haine confronted him about it.

"Where the hell are you keeping all my buttons, Badou?" he growled one morning, reduced to holding his pants up with a white knuckled, very angry grip. "This is really getting old!"

Badou merely looked at him with a suggestive, sidelong look. "I'll tell you where they are," he said, a sly grin on his lips. "But only for a price."

_Jacket_

Badou had known for a long time that Nill regarded Haine as a savior. He allowed it, however, knowing that Haine's trust and quasi-present affection would only ever belong to him. So when Haine grudgingly deemed his favorite jacket too patched to repair, he opted to give it to Nill.

When he handed it over to the girl, her confused eyes blinking as they gazed up at him, he smiled at her, patting her on her head. "Haine wanted you to have it. If you want it, that is."

It was probably the warmest hug he'd ever gotten in his life.

_Vegetables_

"I don't get where they get these things from," Badou griped one day over a plate of steaming food at Buon Viaggio. "I mean, who can even grow vegetables anymore? The smog would kill them before the sun even got to them!"

Haine merely shot him a half-interested glance over the top of his newspaper and mug of coffee. "They don't grow them here, idiot," he said, looking back to his article, "they ship them in from places where things actually grow."

Badou went silent for a moment, prodding at a slice of steamed carrot. "Do you think those trucks would be willing to ship me there?"

He barely caught Haines half-smile.

_Boots_

There was always one sign Badou could count on to tell when Haine's mood was good enough for him to get away with things. If, when he arrived at the apartment, Haine's boots were at the front door and not on his feet, it was a sure-fire sign that Haine didn't have any plans to go anywhere.

And, thus, could obviously be detained for at least a bit longer by whatever shenanigans Badou had cooked up.

_Ransom_

Badou had been used as a ransom multiple times. He'd been used to draw out his partner, or some other rogue force out of the woodwork, but he'd never known what exactly could be used to blackmail him. He had his pride, but no matter what scandalous pictures anyone had, there was never anything that was beyond repair.

But then, one late winter night, he found out exactly what it was that held sway over him.

Someone, in their right or wrong mind, depending on the perspective, had managed to kidnap Haine. And had send him a ransom letter, obviously having thought that they could keep the albino restrained until they'd gotten whatever sum of money they wanted from him.

He'd actually just arrived at the warehouse when Haine walked out. He walked up to Badou, rubbing his jaw and looking just a bit more worse for wear. Badou grabbed his hand, pulling it away to see what was bothering him. There was a small circular indentation in his chin, showing the not so subtle sign that he'd been shot across the jaw.

"You were supposed to be the damsel in distress. Couldn't you have waited a bit longer?" he griped, turning to head home.

"No," Haine's raspy voice gurgled back. "After a while some sick fuck mentioned "bondage" and that was all the time I was willing to risk."

"Well," Badou said, wrapping an arm around Haine's shoulder and smirking at him mischievously, "thanks to you, I don't have to pay the ransom fees. So it can't be all bad."

"Maybe, but you still owe me a fee. Which is worse, do you think?"

_Question_

Haine wasn't particularly fond of surprises. He got angry, most of the time, before annihilating whatever it is that had surprised him.

But when Badou surprised him with a small velvet box and four words, Haine's dislike of surprises went away.

_Anatomy_

The quickest way to Haine's heart was through his body. If Badou petted him, rested on him, kissed him in just the right way, he'd unwind like a coiled snake. It was a lesson in anatomy every time, and soon enough Badou knew Haine's body better than a textbook, and knew just what to do in order to get what he wanted.


	9. Set 9

_Neurotic_

"You, sir, are a raving lunatic," Haine growled out, trying to swat the other away as he encroached more and more on the poor amount of space he himself was taking up on the couch.

"You forgot _neurotic_, dearest. But don't worry; I'll help you remember."

_Uncertainty_

"To Hell if I know."

"You know," Badou said, looking his partner square in the eye, "I'd rather you not go to Hell if you knew. Because frankly, I don't know if I'd be capable of following you there or not."

"You dumbass. Where else do you think you'll go when you die, Candy-Land?"

"Well… yeah. I was kind of hoping so."

_Luck_

"Dude, do you have any idea how lucky you are?"

Badou really had no interest whatsoever in finding out what he was so lucky about, but seeing as he was smashed enough to not even care about the fact that he'd accidentally stumbled into a gay bar to get drunk in, he might as well try his own shit-faced luck some more to see how far it would go.

"No, but why don't you tell me. I'd like to hear some good fuckin' news for once," he slurred, staring over at the bleach blond brute sitting next to him, who was looking after the front door like it was going to spawn something with two legs that he could abscond and canoodle with.

"I don't know how you can have any bad news with a pair of legs like that walking after you," the man said, shaking his head and taking a deep slug of his bourbon.

"What the Sam Hell are you talking about?"

"And the fact that you managed to find the only drop dead gorgeous albino in the city? Hot damn, I'd kill to be you when you get home tonight." He actually looked at Badou then, and realized that the other had no idea what was going on, but was getting a slow, drunken inkling. "Your partner that came storming in after you earlier; the one with the guns on his ass. Don't tell me you haven't gotten past those yet."

Badou just about snorted the rest of his ill-tasting beer. "Haine? You're looking after _his_ ass? You've gotta be fucking crazy, man. He'll bite your head off before he lets you touch his gun, let alone his ass."

The man let out a low "ooh". "So he likes to play a hard-handed tough-to-get, does he? Sounds like fun."

"You obviously don't know him very well," Badou grumbled, setting down his drink before any more of it could end up in his lungs. "That hard-handed tough-to-get view would get you a distinctive hole in your throat sooner than any of that ass. So I recommend you dream on with some other assassin in this city before you drag yourself up to his happy ass."

The man shrugged, obviously having expected, and accepted such an answer while remaining generally nonplussed about the matter. "Still, you're one lucky guy. Deadliest, most gorgeous albino assassin in the city, and he's obviously wrapped around your finger."

"Damn right he is, now fuck off; I'm drinking."

_Heat_

Haine was practically poking his partner in the face with the popsicle before the heat-stupefied man even began to notice.

"Just take the damn thing, and don't make any kinky comments," the albino growled out over his own cherry-flavored treat. "It's hot out, and if you light up one more cig I swear to god the apartment will burn down."

"Never thought I'd see the day when I'd take a popsicle over another cig."

"Yeah, well heat makes you do funny things."

_River_

"Come on, man. Come on, come back with me," Badou muttered as he dragged the water-logged form of his companion up the levee bank that enclosed the rain-fattened hell-channel of a river that ran through the city. "Drowning ain't supposed to be your strong suit."

He finally managed to haul half of himself above the water level by clawing one hand up a chain link fence far enough to get some torque. He just barely managed to get Haine's shoulders above the water, the albino's sopping white hair sagging against his face as he breathed in heavily the air that was now accessible.

"Not drowned yet," he coughed out after a moment, before slowly clawing one of his own hands up onto the chain link in order to pull himself up. "Just a bit more wet in some places. Let's finish the job up, eh?"

"Hell no," Badou said, helping to haul both himself and Haine up over the fence and onto firm ground. "We'll talk about that when we get that "a bit more wet" out of your lungs, okay?"

_Shark_

Badou turned in the middle of their firefight at the sound of Haine coarsely swearing. In a barrage of quickly-aimed shots Haine himself ended the remaining fight; obviously having grown swiftly impatient due to whatever made him swear.

When Badou got over to him, after jumping spryly over the bodies they'd felled, he was finally able to ask what was wrong.

"Fucker got me in the mouth," Haine ground out through a hand that was pressed against one side of his face. "Think he might have knocked a tooth loose."

"Lemme' see," Badou said, and leaned in as Haine removed his hand and curled his lip up for the other to see.

Sure enough, his gum was bleeding, and a canine tooth was hanging loose and crooked against its socket. Badou cringed, before reaching in and essentially plucking it out from where it was hanging. But the second he did, a fleck of white caught his eye, and what appeared to be a chip of the root turned out to be anything but.

"Fuck, you bastard, that hurt," Haine bit out, only to have Badou interrupt him.

"Fuck, you bastard! You've got another tooth already growing in! What are you, a fucking shark or something?"

_Wonderland_

"I'd like to follow you down _your_ rabbit hole."

"That's probably one of the worst lines I've ever heard."

"I know, just roll with it, okay?"

"No."

_Rationale_

"You do know the only reason that this church is still here, don't you?" the Bishop asked of him one day, as he lay lounging on a pew waiting for Haine to come out with one of his newly repaired jackets.

"Because it's old and thus valued for some reason?" he'd guessed.

"No," the Bishop said with a light laugh. "It's because of something that was rumored to have happened here during the Dark Ages. And old Catholic legend, surrounding massive hounds from hell with red eyes and black pelts. One in particular that clawed at this church's door and prowled down these very pews one Sunday morning. That's what a lot of people claim made the strange scorch marks on the door."

Badou paused for a moment, thinking. "Well, you know what they say about history repeating itself. And I don't know about you, but I'd call these some pretty dark ages myself."

"Indeed."

_Loot_

Haine straddling his absconded crotch-rocket for the first time was probably the most erotic thing he'd seen Haine dare to do in public. But that was probably because he was the only one daring enough to think of Haine in a provocative way whenever he did anything, if only due to "personal prejudices".

_Compromise_

"Badou, this isn't 'Show and Tell'."

"Yeah, well it ain't 'Show and Sell' either, so what the hell are you so afraid of?"

"Did you just call me a hooker?"

"Nah, I wouldn't ever do that."

"Why?"

"Don't like competition, _Roxanne_."

"Shut up, asshole."

_Beach_

The day the trains actually led somewhere sunny, Mimi was the first one to abscond with everyone she could get her hands on and go to the beach.

Badou was over his head with how much of a world existed outside the razed walls of the city, and Haine was beyond himself pissed with how much _sun_ existed everywhere else. But he did seem intrigued by all of it, even if it did having to mean slathering up with gallons of SPF 9000+.

But even Haine, with his aversion to the sun and its obnoxious screen, couldn't deny that their trip to the beach, with Mihai, Kiri, Naoto, Nill, and even the Bishop, had been a wonderful time. And, for the first time ever, Badou was able to appreciate Haine's comeliness in a lack of shirt _in public_.

He'd been sipping on a lemonade as Haine made to wander over to where Nill was attempting to make some sort of sandcastle when he became aware that he was not the only one to have noticed Haine's features.

What made him nearly drown himself in the lemonade, however, was the fact that it was _Naoto_ who had noticed.

"You know, he has awfully pretty hips for a guy."

_Perspective_

It wasn't something he had intended to notice; it wasn't something most people intended to notice in their lifetimes. He hadn't intended to get that close to his partner, nor had he intended to have become so close to his partner in the end.

But the scene was one that would forever remain in his mind regardless.

Haine's hair had grown out some; just long enough to brush down past his ears and just flick at his shoulders. It was mussed, as always, but he was intending wholeheartedly to cut it soon. But it made for one hell of a rapture when Badou, who sat facing him on the bed, idly reached out with both his hands to brush the hair back on both sides of Haine's neck until his fingers laced.

Haine, who had been reading some article in his lap, had glanced up at him, and Badou was nearly startled enough to release the other when he realized just how perfectly symmetrical, angular, and crafted Haine's face looked from his position.

And yet, it wasn't repugnant in the least, much to his surprise and relief. But that could also be accredited to his particular perspective.

_Fluff_

After the hair raising day spent down at the river, Badou could honestly say that taking Haine home and buffing him off in a fluffy towel was on the verge of seriously making his day.

Okay, so it did totally make his day, especially with how almost ludicrously fluffy Haine's already wiry hair got when buffed dry.


	10. Set 10

_Exposed_

It took almost ten years of them getting to know each other before Badou ever actually saw Haine reach his absolute breaking point. He'd seen him come close; watched him shed tears of numbed shock at moments that rocked him so hard it had taken him months to get back on his feet. But never before had Badou seen him crushed; never before shaking with fear and _sobbing_ until he couldn't breathe let alone think straight.

And if Badou hadn't been one hundred percent sure that Haine would not have murdered him for touching him, he wouldn't have knelt down next to the other man and wrapped an arm around him. It sounded backwards, considering he usually would have knelt down anyway. But the fact that he knew Haine wouldn't hurt him immediately was strangely not a comforting one, and it made him reach out and bridge the gap.

"Come on, man," he said, leaning the albino's even more ashen face against his shoulder and trying not to grimace at just how much the poor guy was _shaking_. "Tell ol' Badou what's up."

"_It hurts_."

_Gun-Fodder_

"God damn it, Haine! Why can't you just listen to me when I tell you to go out and get ammo?"

"Fuck you! You're the one who told me to get my ass back in the apartment before I even got a foot out the door. Which do you want me to listen to more, your libido or what little addled sense you have?"

"Shut up and shoot, Zombie-Fuck."

"You're just butt-sore, Fire-Crotch."

"I thought _you_ were."

"Yeah, well you will be too shortly if you don't actually start shooting what ammo you have at the people _who are trying to kill us_."

_Zeugmatic_

"That _cannot_ be a word," Badou all but shrieked over the Scrabble board as Haine sat back triumphantly against his cushioned booth seat at _Buon Viaggio_. Naoto, playing both score-keeper and referee to their little match, picked up the old leather dictionary that Kiri kept upstairs for an untold reason, flicking through it all the way to the back where the Z section sat.

"No, it's a word," she said, a look of surprise on her usually enigmatic face. "Don't know how the hell the Lab Rat knew it though."

Badou looked over incredulously at his partner, his jaw laying against the tabletop as Haine grinned down at him maliciously; his overtly pointed canines accented by the twisted little dimple in his cheek. "So, how much was that one worth?" he asked, looking over at Naoto innocently.

"Approximately 23 points."

_Xylographer_

"You have got to be _fucking kidding me._"

"That one's worth 27, Haine. I think you win."

_South_

"You know, we could be like that old song," Badou said through a mouthful of smoke one day, and Haine glanced over at him skeptically, sensing a pointless topic about to unravel from the other's often wagging tongue. "You know, the one about Bad Leroy Brown? 'Meaner than a junk yard dog', you know?"

"Yeah, that's great," Haine said, his tone apparently bemused but still holding the underlying threat of completely sinking the thought, "especially at the end of the song when he gets the shit beaten out of him for looking at some hoocher at a gambling house." He cast a withering glance over at his partner. "Sound like you, alright."

_Assassin_

"So, what do you boys think?" the man asked from his standing position in their front hallway. Badou was sitting marginally upright, with one arm slung over the back of the couch. Haine, a bit more comfortable with being unnecessarily obscene, had his legs stretched over Badou's lap, and his shoulders curled over the arm of the couch he was closest to; portraying probably the most petulantly bored child he could muster.

"Sure," he muttered boredly, seeming to surprise the government suit that had come knocking on their door. "Got nothing better to do. And, hell; it'd be nice to hold a gun again."

"So…" the man paused, looking to Badou for some guidance through the albino's nebulous behavior. "Both of you will come and work for us?"

Badou shrugged, letting his upper lip curl for a moment. "We're not so good at long-term commitments, you see," he said, taking a puff of his last cigarette. He needed to make it last until they got paid again, which was a distinct problem considering that wasn't until sometime next week. And the pay that this assassin work offered sounded pretty damn good; he couldn't deny. "We'll do freelance, though."

"Freelance assassin work?" The suit sounded unsure.

"Yeah; it's what we did before you showed up. Might as well do what we know. What do you think, Haine?" Badou asked, looking down the couch at his partner.

"'Dun really care, so long as they pay for travel expenses," he grumbled, apparently nonplussed about the whole thing. But Badou could just barely see the man's fingers twitch at the thought of holding a gun again. Thus letting him know that he liked the idea. Badou patted Haine on the thigh, looking up at the suit who was just about skinning himself with fear.

"Alright, if blondie here approves, then so do I. When can we start?"

_Sniper_

"_This is some pretty fancy gear they've got us hooked up with, don't you think Haine_?"

The albino huffed angrily, pressing down on the button in his ear bullet for a moment. "Yeah, it is," he admitted tersely, keeping his eye on the scope of the black sniper rifle he had in his hand as the mass of thundering flags strewn out above him cracked like drums in the wind. "Now will you shut up and get to work? I'm trying to aim here, and it's hard to focus with you yacking at me."

"_I'm just saying. With these scopes they've got us using, I can see what kind of underwear you're __**not**__ wearing today. Pants a bit too small, dearie?"_

Haine then just gave up on actually trying to aim, and reached a free arm up behind him to flip off the building behind him, where he knew Badou to be cackling behind a statue.

_Outside_

"I didn't think you'd like it this much," Badou said, unable to keep the smile off his face as Haine all but swallowed another beignet whole. The albino looked over at him from under his beanie, shrugging as he licked the powdered sugar off his fingers.

"What can I say; when the outside world has this much good food for cheap, what's not to like?"

_Threat_

"You know," Badou said loudly from his place on the chair he was tied to, "this isn't much of a threat for him. It's more of a challenge. And, well… you know."

His guard looked over his shoulder somewhat nervously, and Badou could tell he'd struck a nerve. "What?"

"Well," he said with a shrug, "you know how dogs get when they're threatened. Instead of running away, they charge and fight. They only run after they get a beating. And unless you guys think you can hand Haine a beating, you're in for one hell of a night."

_Unfortunate_

When Badou came home to Haine groaning on their couch with a hand slapped over his eyes, he knew better than to be worried. Mostly because he knew that Haine's lack of work lately had forced him to stay home, which left him alone for hours with nothing but the television for company. And, much to Badou's dismay, he'd acquired a vague amusement with _Neon Genesis Evangelion_, or at least the original television series from the 90s. But, already knowing how its final episode went, Badou hadn't the heart to tell him how awful it was.

Now, apparently, Haine had found out for himself, and was in for some heavy consoling from his partner and a nice, smug, "I told you so".

_Off_

"Badou, _now._"

"You're in such a rush, Haine. You late for something?"

The scowl on Haine's face was worth a fortune, if only because it went along wonderfully with the full body squirm he gave as he tried to wriggle out of Badou's grasp. Which, unfortunately for him, was more centered around the idea of keeping his hips enclosed via keeping a firm grip on his ass.

"_Geroff_," the albino growled, trying again to twist out, and instead giving Badou an even greater amount of ass to hold onto until finally he gave up and glowered at the red-head with a look that spelled retribution at some point.

"Much better," Badou said, nuzzling Haine's snowy bangs with his nose as the lab rat smoldered hatefully in his arms.

_Bourbon_

"Come on, Haine, just this once," Badou cajoled in a low tone as he and Haine strolled quietly down Bourbon Street. The cobblestones were swathed in the silver moonlight of the only clear evening New Orleans would see for the next fifty years, and he just couldn't get the song that Haine had once sung him out of his head.

Most notably, the _voice_ that Haine had sung that song in, which had every capability of turning steel into Jell-O.

Haine's red eyes gleamed in the silver moonlight, lightened even more by the mischief in his own eyes. "Oh you'll never see my shade, or hear the sound of my feet, while there's a moon over Bourbon Street," he sang, low, soft, and velvety as Badou leaned against his shoulder.

_Bad_

"Haine…"

"What?"

"Do you think you can carry me home?"

"What? Why? You're perfectly sober?"

"Yeah… but I think if I take another step I'm going to hurl."

"Told you that Chinese place was bad."

"Yeah, I know."


End file.
